


Feathery touch

by Smolangryslytherin



Series: Angels and Demons [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angel! Harry, Angels and Demons AU, Demon! tom, F/M, Fluff, Good Omens AU, Kinda, M/M, Mentions of War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:40:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26237281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smolangryslytherin/pseuds/Smolangryslytherin
Summary: Angel and Demons! AU. Harry is an angel, and Tom a demon. They are just talking, you know, sitting 5 feet apart 'cause... they are enemies? Apparently?
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Series: Angels and Demons [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1905769
Comments: 5
Kudos: 138





	Feathery touch

**Author's Note:**

> Rigth now I'm obsessed with Good Omens, so expect more of this mess.

It’s a cool and breezy day with mixed clouds and a glowing sunshine that bathes them with its warmth. The vast, infinite blue firmament is painted with white clouds, whose bright and vibrant colour, could also be seen down on the sea, with a deeper shade. There are some people sparced around the beach, in groups mostly, except for the person sitting on the edge of the cliff. People would normally be concerned for the lone figure, if only they could see him. 

Harry is comfortable where he is, swinging his legs, munching on some crisps when he hears the fluttering of some heavy wings. A man had fallen from the sky, landing with his knees bent, which straightened and then Harry was gifted with a wide smile. The man was not a man, which was pretty clear by the large and fluffy dark pair of wings that emerged from his back. That was a demon.

A particularly loud and smug one, at that.

“Why, hello, angel.” Harry only nods in acknowledgement, before turning back to his show, getting another mouthful of crisps to his mouth. “What is happening?”

Harry swallows the snack, before moving on the spot to find a more comfortable position which, apparently, was with his legs crossed. After moving he points at the pair on the beach.

“You see that boy?” The ‘boy’ was actually an adult. The ‘boy’ was sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, looking his companion in the eyes with a wicked smile, one that would be more similar to Tom’s kind than to the pretty angel beside him. Still, Tom nods. 

“Don’t you recognize him?” The angel insists, widening his smile.

He glances momentarily, but limits himself to shake his head.

“...No, why?” 

“Oh, really?” His white wings fluttered in excitement, raising some of the dirt up. “I think you should look closer.” Tom, wanting to please the angel, complies, and looks harder in their direction squinting his eyes almost closed in an effort to see him better. After a second, the angel growls in annoyance and starts to point more desperately. “You know what?! I’ll tell you who he is: that’s Christian Davies, beautiful name by the way, and he is the boy that you were trying to temp last week.”

Tom blinks.

“So?”

“Soooo… We won!” He laughs gleefully, clapping loudly and crunching the rest of the snack to nothing more than dust in the red bag. “Which makes complete sense.”

Tom sighs, taking a seat right next to the angel, making sure that his thigh was touching the other’s one, for the angel’s discomfort. He lets one of his wings almost wrap around the other, but not touching, never touching, the other’s skin or feathers, just close to it. 

Tom rests his head on his shoulder, directing his eyes to the angel.

“How so?”

“Because our side is going to win,” he says, smugly.

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, really!”

The demon chuckles, staring down at the pretty pink lips, before looking away, towards the couple. They were now holding each other's hands, and lovingly breathing the other’s air with soft, maybe excited, grins in place. It wasn’t that weird of a picture, so he mentally shrugged.

“Just tell me what you mean.”

“See!” 

He looks. Chris-bluh, the man kneeling on one knee, shows the redheaded woman a big and sparkly ring that was being held delicately with his index and thumb. The woman cried in affirmation, throwing herself at the man, who spins her around in circles, both of them laughing gleefully.

“See?! Beautiful!” 

Tom hums.

He probably could tell him that the man had a mistress, and the marriage proposal was only to satisfy the enraged girlfriend who almost found out about the other person, and that, in a desperate moment, he ran to get a ring and propose before the end of the week. He also had to calm his oh-so-worried family who thought that him being 30 already meant that it was time he settled down with a family. Tom could also mention his undying addiction to gambling, something that was very clearly on the ‘bad side’, due to the inevitable loss and how it would affect the future family. 

It wasn’t only due to being a demon, but by having common sense, that he could almost see the picture already: a broken home, a missing father, an enraged and lost woman holding a child in her arms, impatiently waiting for her husband to return. She would picture horrible scenarios, but stay quiet, dreading the idea of him leaving her alone with a child to tend to. So, she would stay like that for years, before something snaps and she ends the relationship, leaving them bitter individuals with a confused and depressed kid to solve their own issues as time goes on. Tom shudders just imagining what would happen when said kid enters puberty.

He could say all of that.

But he doesn’t. 

“Congrats,” he limits himself to say monotonously. Tom has to fight back the smile that threatened to appear at the picture of the angel almost vibrating in excitement. “You did a very good job. But… Free will?”

“Of course, free will!” he spits the words, in an offended tone of voice. “Heaven will never force someone to do something he doesn’t want to.” He bites his tongue to not answer. “Unlike you, demons, angels only help people realize that maybe it’s wrong to think in a certain way and illuminate their lives. You know? Protect and guide.” Weren’t angels supposed to be angelical? 

“Yeah, whatever.” 

He could, again, say that demons would never force anyone to do anything they don’t want to, well, at least he doesn't. He only implants the idea, as a whisper on their ear and leaves for them to dwell on it. If they do it, nice. If they don’t, boring. But it was, still, free will.

Pretty much like them, just to the other end. Tom decides to only push the conversation forward.

“Do you have a new task? I haven’t been assigned anything in awhile. I don’t think that they’re very amused with me.” The angel seems to be waiting for him to continue, but when he doesn’t, he shrugs his shoulders.

“Same. My last task was 80 years ago, or so.” Harry mumbles, taking him aback. The upbeat tone of his voice and frenzy state had disappeared in question of seconds.

“What? But weren’t you there trying to solve the, erm, wait… When was your last task?” Was he…? No, impossible.

“Erm… I think in the 1900’s. Not sure, but it doesn’t really matter!”

“Were you the angel that was supposed to save Ferdinard?!” Harry looks away. “Were you? That task was a mess! I even tried to help you save that man,” he realizes as he speaks that the angel was not paying close attention, so he manages to slip past that. “I got Gavrilo tempted with some food, and he was eating something and kind of chilling when the car, for some reason, went down the wrong street… Oh my Lord, you caused the first World War.” He cackles with loud, strident laughs, hitting his leg with his hand. “An angel is the reason for a war. I won’t let you forget about this…”

The volume of his voice falters to nothing but a whisper when he turns his head again, and the angel’s eyes are lowered and sparkly fat tears are rolling down his face.

“Oh, fuck. Hey, angel, it was only a joke. You are, erm, doing a… good job.” The angel sniffed, his wings wrapping around himself, making a tight cocoon of an angel. Tom moves around, trying to find a little hole to catch another glimpse of the pitiful pure creature next to him. “Don’t be like that, I was just joking.” He hisses when there’s a particularly loud wail.

They have known each other for hundreds of years, and in all that time, they would always tease each other. Tom would fly to him and constantly try to insert doubt into his head, and Harry, the precious angel, would just glare at him and throw stuff in his direction. But in the last couple of decades the angel had started to hang around Sirius, another angel as old as time itself. If Tom was allowed to say -and he was. He was a demon, he could do whatever he pleased- Sirius was an incredibly questionable angel. He acted closer to what a fallen angel -cough, cough, demon, cough- would, than a simple and ‘pure’ angel. After that, he saw how the confidence in the angel grew, and that was a good thing. But could he even get over the loss of his rank if he were to fall?

He didn’t want to find out.

“Ok, ok, angel, calm down.”

“I can’t! Because I messed it up so badly that so many people died, and places were wrecked, and my job was so simple, and it was all my fault.” The words slurred, almost incomprehensible. Harry sniffs, wiping the tears away. “And now I won’t ever get another task, because it was all my fauuult.”

“It wasn’t! It was a mistake. Everything is fine.”

There’s more wailing. Tom grimaces, and backs away when his arms reached for the boy. He wasn’t sure what would happen if he were to actually touch him. 

He didn’t particularly fancy the idea of burning with holy water so early in the day. 

“No, no, no, it isn’t. I caused the greatest fuck up, ever!” Tom blinks at the curse.

“Pretty sure the second world war was worse.”

“Yes, but it was a consequence of the first one! So it’s indirectly also my fault!”

He lets out a short, indifferent sound, but when Harry glares at him with his face teary, he regrets the interjection. 

“... Do you want me to leave you alone?” He hesitates, but shakes his head. “Are you sure? You seem to be having a moment, and to be honest, angel, I have no idea what to do.”

Harry’s eyes darted around, before sadly looking up at his own eyes. “Hug me?”

Tom only blinks.

“Tom?”

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“Hug me.”

“Oh… So, I heard correctly. Are you sure? Aren’t you going to, I don’t know, combust from all the evilness and whatever that is taught to you in Angel’s school?”

“We,” he hiccups, rubbing his eye with his fist, “we don’t have a school.”

“Oh, yeah, neither do we. I mean, why would we? We were angels, but suddenly had a realization, you know? We went, and shazam! We were awake and aware of everything and…” He stops for a second. “Which is why I should have known you don’t have a school, haha…”

“Don’t you want to hug me?” His eyes get teary once again, making Tom panic. 

“I do! I…” Fuck. “It’s just… Is that even allowed?”

Harry shrugs with a trembling pout.

“I don’t know, but Siri is not here now and no one else likes to touch me.”

Tom hesitates, but moves closer to the crying angel. He extends his hands towards him, his breath hitching when the white, pearly wings opened up. Was he going to fly away? That doubt disappears when the angel inched closer. Did he not have any self-preservation?

It’s a slow process to hug the angel. At first, when he was within reach, Tom extended his arms, and the little angel shuffled closer, and with a huff, he moved closer too. 

“You have to start it, angel.”

The angel nodded with a blush starting to creep on his cheeks. He leans closer, until he is located between his kneeling legs, and waits patiently. A weird, choked sound emitted from Tom’s throat as the angel closes the distance between them, and wraps his thin arms around his broad chest. 

There’s a second of an incredibly awkward silence between the two of them, as Tom, trying to follow what he feels is right, wraps his arms around the lithe figure. One of his arms on his shoulder, and the other one lower, just above his waist. 

“Is this okay…?” Harry asks in a trembling voice, and he responds, by tightening the hug. Tom has to stop a shiver, when the angel, in his comfort, lets out a soft sigh that bristles the back of his neck. “Could I… Could I…?

“What?”

“Could I rest my head on your shoulder?”

“...Ok?”

Minutes later, they were still on the other. Tom was starting to look around, wondering if discorporating(1) himself would hurt the angel, and yes, the answer was yes. He didn’t have to ask it outloud to know that was the wrong move. With that, he would only expect to be ignored for a couple of decades, and what could he do in that case? Having no one to talk to?

Hmmm, maybe sleep. Sleeping sounds pretty good. He could find some quiet and cold place, and hibernate for fifty years...

“Can I sit closer?” The sudden voice almost makes him flinch.

“Sure, angel?”

Minutes later, when Harry was starting to sway side to side, he talked again, his voice sounding more chipper.

“Can I rub your back?” He swallows tensily but nods. “Hug me tighter.” Another nod.

The sun was starting to set, and by this point, Tom was just pointedly looking away to the sky, where some stars were starting to pop out, and the sun was setting. His eyes were teared from the sky by a harsh tug on his arm. Looking back down at the angel, he smirked widely.

“I’m going to kiss your cheek.”

“Is that even a question?!” The angel glances away for a second, and looks back up with the smirk still in place.

“Not really.”

  
  


  1. Discorporate: not having a material body; immaterial - without material form or substance; "an incorporeal spirit". 



**Author's Note:**

> I didn't know what to put in the summary, help? Should I put a quote or what?
> 
> twt: https://twitter.com/smolangrysneik  
> tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/smolangryslytherin


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